


I Get All The Jets

by Graceful_Storyteller



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: A Heat fic that doesn't involve anyone going into Heat, Bee did not plan to spend his day running from morally dubious situations, Bumblebee/All the Jets, Crack, I Regret Nothing!, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, and Starscream, but here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-16 01:49:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graceful_Storyteller/pseuds/Graceful_Storyteller
Summary: Bee tried not to squirm as he considered the best way to phrase his question. “During the war did any Decepticons ever act, err, weird?”Megatron stared at him, his expression deadpan. “Constantly.”With a momentous effort Bee resisted the temptation to roll his optics. “What I meant was: did a whole group of 'Cons ever suddenly start acting extra weird? For no reason. At the same time. Specifically those with a jet alt-mode.”Megatron covered his optics with one hand and whispered, “Dear Primus not again.”Bumblebee has 99 problems and compulsively flirty jets are one of them. The other 98 are Starscream. Whirl, Megatron and Prowl help make everything worse in their own special ways.





	I Get All The Jets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeinongsJungleBook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinongsJungleBook/gifts).



> My first Transformers fic. For brandxspandex on Tumblr who made a comment about Bumblebee being a jet magnet. I couldn't get that out of my head and here's the result!
> 
> In terms of continuity: I only skim read the IDW ending so for this fic the only one who died was Optimus taking down Unicron. Then everyone else settled on a new planet after Cybertron was eaten. 
> 
> Rated M for Starscream. Naturally. 
> 
> astrosecond = 0.5 seconds  
> Klik = 1.2 minutes  
> deca-cycle = 3 weeks  
> cycle = 12 hours  
> vorn = 83 years

Being stared at by total strangers was such a common occurrence these days that Bee only noticed it when said stares were hostile and a likely precursor to a barrage of blaster fire. After his short reign as ruler of Cybertron and the part he'd played in the defeat of Unicron, it wasn't surprising that his distinctive yellow frame would draw the attention of the inhabitants of New Cybertron. Sometimes the citizens would greet him by designation, but most were content simply to watch him walk by. Very rarely was he ever approached by mechs he didn't know.

“Hi Bumblebee!”

Bee smiled as he tried to place the powder blue and yellow jet. “Oh, hello...”

“Skylight,” the jet said, beaming brightly. “I just wanted to say that you're doing a great job and I, personally, really appreciate all your efforts to establish a world for all Cybertronians and Colonists.”

“Wow, thanks. It makes me really happy to hear that,” Bee said, his smile a little more genuine.

“Good. I'm glad I could brighten up your morning.”

Skylight placed his hand on Bee's shoulder. Bee's optics darted towards the place of contact, more than a little surprised. Suspicion began to bubble in his tank when he noticed the greedy curl of the jet's lip-plates. Before Bee could question him on his motives, Skylight was brushed aside by another jet Bee didn't recognise – this one silver and black.

“What do you think you're doing Skylight?” the jet snarled before turning a flirty grin on Bee. “Hey there, I'm Moonshine.”

“Hello,” is all Bee managed to get out before Moonshine was shoved to the ground.

“What are you playing at you glitch?” hissed Skylight.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Moonshine hissed right back.

“Bumblebee and I were talking.”

“ _You_ were talking, and obviously not saying anything of interest. As usual.”

Fury flashed across Skylight's faceplate and he aimed a kick at the downed jet. Moonshine took the opportunity to knock his leg out from under him with a kick of his own. Bee took a step back as the two started to wrestle and curse each other. He was confused, and not entirely sure if it would be wise to intervene.

“What are you morons doing?!”

Two femmes pried the jets apart while a mech Bee vaguely recognised as being from Velocitron gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. They're not usually like this. Well, not in public. Do you know what set them off?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Bee glanced back at the jets still trying to claw each other's optics out. “I have to go. Good luck finding out.”

“Thanks,” the mech replied darkly, clearly not looking forward to the task.

Hoping to avoid any further diversions, Bee transformed and sped away from the scene of the brawl. Nobody attempted to stop him and only bots he recognised raised a hand in greeting. Bee was just starting to think that he might make his meeting with Windblade in time when Misfire stepped backwards right into his path. Slamming on the brakes, Bee transformed and only just managed to avoid a collision. Misfire, seeming not the least bit concerned he had nearly been run over, beamed and cried, “Bumblebee!” as he enveloped him in a hug.

“Misfire, put the Autobot down,” came Krok's world-weary voice from somewhere Bee couldn't see.

“No,” said Misfire, and Bee could _hear_ his pout.

A heavy ex-vent. “Grimlock?”

Misfire made a sound of protest and took a step back. Moments later Bee was released from what hadn't exactly been an unpleasant embrace. He looked up to see Grimlock holding a sulking Misfire by the arms.

“Thanks,” he said as he stepped around the two mechs. Right into Cyclonus.

“Good day Bumblebee. I hope you are well?”

“...Yes?”

Cyclonus nodded slowly, and Bee was hopeful this would conclude the conversation. He hoped wrong.

“I was wondering if you would like to join me for a cube of energon tonight?”

Bee felt his optics grow impossibly wide as Misfire started to struggle in Grimlock's hold and Tailgate released an indignant, “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Sorry, but I already have plans for tonight. Also I'm late for a meeting. Maybe some other time? Great, thanks, bye.”

He hastily manoeuvred himself into an open stretch of road, transformed, and raced away to the sound of Tailgate asking the very question on Bee's processor, “Where did _that_ come from?”

Bee was still mulling over the enigma that was his morning when he arrived outside what was currently being used as the government headquarters of their new society. He transformed and made his way through the main entrance, much more suspicious of the glances cast his way than he usually would be. He wasn't sure what was going on but there was definitely _something_ strange happening. Something that involved him and...

“Hi Bumblebee!”

Bee tensed as he noticed Thundercracker approaching. “Hi T.C.” he said slowly, waiting for...something.

“Did you read the script I sent you?” Thundercracker asked, almost bouncing with eagerness.

“Sorry, I haven't, my schedule has been really hectic of late.”

Thundercracker deflated. “I understand. Marissa has been busy too. I've barely seen her since the whole Unicron incident.”

Feeling himself relax, Bee patted the jet's arm consolingly. “I should have some spare time in the next few cycles. I promise to read it then.”

Watching Thundercracker's face light up warmed Bee's spark. “Thanks Bumblebee! And you know that if there's anything you ever need from me all you have to do is ask right?”

“I do,” Bee replied as he checked his chrono. “Sorry, I have a meeting with-”

“No, seriously, if there's anything you need just ask. _Anything_.”

Bee looked up into Thundercracker's optics with an impending sense of dread. Alongside the expected earnestness something else burned bright in those crimson depths. Something that made Bee step back into another familiar frame. Slowly, Bee tilted his helm back so that he could see Skywarp's leering visage above him. “How _you_ doin' Little Bee.”

“Skywarp!”

The purple jet turned his leer on his friend. “You recharge you lose, Loser,” Skywarp drawled as he placed his hands possessively on Bee's shoulders.

“You lousy piece of scrap,” Thundercracker growled as he raised his arm and... shot Skywarp in the face. Or tried to anyway – Skywarp managed to dodge the blast by teleporting himself behind Thundercracker. This must have been a tried and tested manner of attack because the blue jet instantly swung around to tackle Skywarp, sending the jet's own blast astray.

“What is going on!?” Bee shouted, finally losing his patience.

“The Decepticons are reminding you why you never trusted, or liked, them.”

Warning bells rang in his processor as Bee tore his optics away from the carnage to see Metalhawk standing beside him. Ever since his resurrection by questionable means (as in nobody was quite sure how it had happened and everybody but the scientists were to busy to be bothered by it) Metalhawk had shared one conversation with Bee outside of the council chamber. He'd otherwise chosen to keep his distance, which made it even more suspicious that he was speaking with him now.

“Thundercracker hasn't been a Decepticon for a long time,” Bee defended. “And why are you of all bots bringing factions into this? A few cycles ago you were lecturing Prowl on how that type of thinking would only lead to another war.”

“Recent events have changed my processor on the matter.”

“ _What_ events?!”

Before Metalhawk could answer he was punched in the face by... Acid Storm?

“You know what? I'm not even going to ask,” Bee stated to nobody in particular as bots rushed over to restrain the two grappling jets in the same way the seekers were now being restrained. Bee left them to it and headed towards Windblade's office.

“Something weird is going on,” Bee said in lieu of a greeting as the door opened. He made his way over to where Windblade was sitting behind her desk, surrounded by datapads.

“Weird how?” Windblade queried, resting her chin on her fist.

“I'm not sure exactly how to describe it. Bots just seem to be acting really weird around me this morning. First it was these two jets I've never even met, then Misfire and Cyclonus – who I've exchanged at most a dozen words with between the two of them – then Thundercracker, Skywarp, Metalhawk, Acid Storm...”

Only as he said the designations out loud did something click in Bee's processor. What did all the afflicted bots have in common? An aerial alt-mode.

Just like Windblade.

“Oh no,” Bee whispered.

“Bumblebee? Are you alright?” Windblade asked as she came out from behind the desk.

“Windblade, please, don't come any closer,” Bee pleaded as he inched back towards the door.

“It's alright, there's nothing to be afraid of; I won't hurt you,” Windblade soothed, arms outstretched and placating.

Maybe not, but Bee wasn't taking any chances. He tore out of the office, knocking Dirge on his aft as he barrelled down the corridor. Choosing a route that didn't lead straight to the exit in the hope that he might shake any potential pursuers, Bee expertly ducked in and out of rooms at the slightest hint of either wings or rotas. There were a few close calls, but he managed to avoid any incidents right up until the exit came into sight. Overcome with relief Bee dropped his guard for an astrosecond. That astrosecond was all it took for disaster to strike in the form of Starscream.

Bee barely had time to recognise the familiar colour scheme before he was lifted off his pedes and bodily forced up against a wall.

“Hello Little Bee,” Starscream purred, his grin predatory.

“No,” Bee groaned, dragging out the word for as long as possible. “Not you.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Were you hoping to be accosted by somebody else?”

Bee opened his mouth to snark right back, but Starscream cut him off before he could get the first word out.

“Well, it doesn't matter. In a few astroseconds you won't even remember the designation of whoever you were waiting for to grow some ball-bearings and make a move.”

That was when Starscream kissed him.

Once he got over his initial shock, Bee's first impulse was to start shooting and demand an immediate explanation. His second impulse...was to run his hands up strong arms until he reached a warm faceplate. This, his processor decided, was the best impulse to follow.

Smirking, Starscream tilted his helm and deepened the kiss. A small moan escaped Bee as a talented glossa licked its way into his intakes. Primus, Starscream was a good kisser; for someone as touch-starved as Bee had been over the last few years it was absolute bliss. Whatever remained of that first impulse died a brutal death as the little yellow bot decided there was nowhere he'd rather be right now than pressed up against an amorous Starscream.

Which, of course, meant that they were immediately interrupted by an enraged cry of, “Starscream!”

Still holding Bee tight against his cockpit, Starscream expertly spun them out of the path of a furious jet's dive. A smug grin crossed his lip-plates as he taunted, “Late to the party again Windblade.”

“Let him go Starscream,” she growled, her hand flexing as if she was about to bring out her sword.

“Actually, I don't think I will,” he replied as he leaned down to run his glossa over Bee's exposed neck cables while still maintaining uncomfortable optic contact with Windblade. Her optics widened with the same horror Bee felt.

“What is wrong with you!?” Bee and Windblade both shouted simultaneously.

Starscream huffed. “You're both prudes.”

“Dear Primus-”

“Just because we know the meaning of personal space-”

“Sorry to interrupt, but you have something that doesn't belong to you.”

Bee's spark sank as he turned to see the Aerialbots. All five of them.

Starscream looked the bots over critically before glancing at Windblade. “Truce?”

Windblade gave him her own calculating look before nodding. “Truce.”

Starscream returned Bee to his pedes, which Bee was incredibly thankful for. He was less pleased with the whispered, “I'll find you later Little Bee,” or the chaste kiss pressed to his helm before Starscream and Windblade squared off against the Aerialbots.

Not one to let a distraction go to waste, Bee made a beeline for the exit. Something was wrong with the jets on New Cybertron and if he wanted answers he knew who he needed to ask.

***

It didn't take long for Bee to arrive at the newly constructed hospital/science centre. He tried to avoid drawing attention to himself as he scurried down the corridors, even going so far as to duck into a storage closet to avoid a boisterous group of mechs walking towards him. It definitely slowed his progress, but it was worth it to avoid any further... incidents.

Eventually Bee arrived at his destination. Luckily for him, his quarry was exactly where he'd hoped they would be. “Wheeljack! Ratchet!” Bee cried, almost sagging with relief.

“That doesn't sound good,” Wheeljack muttered.

Ratchet ex-vented hard. “What cataclysmic disaster is headed our way this time?”

“I keep being propositioned by aerials!”

Wheeljack and Ratchet shared a look, as if they didn't see how that could possibly be a problem.

“No, you don't understand, it's like they have a pathological _need_ to do it! And also to fight each other if another aerial so much as looks in my direction! Strangers, acquaintances, friends – they've been trying to seduce me all morning!”

Because of course that was what they'd been trying to do, each in their own subtle, unique way. Apart from Starscream, who had decided subtlety could go frag itself.

Looking marginally more concerned now, Ratchet tried to clarify, “Are you saying that every _aerial_ has tried to seduce you or every _jet_?”

“Jet...” Bee said slowly, trying to remember if he'd actually encountered any helicopters today.

That was when the door opened and Brainstorm walked in. “Bumblebee!” he cried happily, zeroing in on him and ignoring everyone else.

Bee immediately back-pedalled to the other side of the room. “Stay back!” he shouted, wondering if he'd be considered justified if he pulled his blaster out to keep the jet at bay.

“Don't be like that! I have something to show you!”

Just as Wheeljack moved to intercept the amorous scientist the window exploded as another jet jumped through it. “YOU!” Ratchet shouted, aiming a furious finger at Pharma.

“Ratchet. Bumblebee,” Pharma answered calmly, wearing a manic grin. His optics landed on Brainstorm. “Scrap metal.”

“Over your deactivated frame,” Brainstorm replied as he pulled out a blaster.

Once again deciding it best not to get involved, Bee jumped out the window already broken by Pharma and beat a hasty retreat.

Which of course was when Whirl landed in front of him and purred, “Come to me Bumblebee, my precious little bug.”

“You have got to be slagging kidding me!”

Whirl started laughing. “Oh, the look on your faceplate! Priceless.”

“Wait,” Bee said slowly. “You _are_ messing with me!”

“Yeah,” Whirl confirmed, completely unrepentant. “Whatever lusty signals you're sending are only affecting jets.”

“How do you-”

“Tailgate. Also I stopped by the government building while trying to track you down. You any idea of the chaos you're creating everywhere you go? Pretty sure Windblade is this close to issuing arrest warrants for every jet on New Cybertron in order to eliminate the competition.” The pincers he held up were nearly touching.

Bee groaned. “I don't know what's driving the jets crazy! I went to Ratchet and Wheeljack for help but we were interrupted before we could get anywhere.”

“By who?”

“...Brainstorm and Pharma.”

Whirl cackled. “Yeah, they won't be much help for awhile. Maybe you should talk to Megatron?”

Bee frowned. “Megatron? Why?”

“The Decepticons had a lot of jets during the war,” Whirl replied, shrugging. “Maybe this isn't the first time this has happened. I can sneak you onto the Lost Light, the two of you can talk, and then you can hide out there until you're ready to return the jets to normal.”

It was a good plan – one that involved a minimal amount of property damage or general chaos. Bee was instantly suspicious. “Why are you helping me?”

Whirl's optic narrowed. “Because I worked real hard to get Cyclonus and Tailgate together and no jet-madness is going to ruin this for me. I mean them. Now let's go before anymore jets spot you.”

Satisfied with that answer, Bee offered the helicopter a grateful smile. “Thanks Whirl.”

Whirl took to the skies without replying. Still smiling, Bee transformed and followed him towards the grounded Lost Light.

***

With Whirl keeping a keen optic on the situation from above they reached the ship without incident. Bee took cover behind a stack of crates and tried to remember exactly how many guards Prowl had assigned to the ship.

Whirl landed quietly behind him. “How high is your security clearance?”

“High enough to get me into the brig. Only Windblade and Prowl have the access codes for Megatron's cell, but I doubt I'll need those.”

“You'll need to get creative if you do. I'm _probably_ going to be too busy creating a distraction to help.”

Bee paused. “What sort of a distraction?”

“That's not something you need to worry about.” When Bee looked over his shoulder there was a wicked gleam to Whirl's optic. “What you need to focus on is getting onto the Lost Light without being spotted. There are guards inside as well as out front; you'd be best waiting until my distraction draws them out before sneaking in.”

“See, when you say things like that, and then tell me not to worry, that just makes me worry more.”

If Whirl had a mouth Bee swore he'd be grinning. “Just keep your optics on the door.” With that he transformed and took to the air.

“Here comes the property damage,” Bee muttered, resigned.

Sure enough, Whirl's distraction was very...distracting. Bee felt bad for the unfortunate sparks on guard duty; but it wasn't like he could have just _asked_ to see Megatron. Not without alerting Windblade.

“At least nobody died this time,” he mumbled, trying to put a positive spin on things as he approached the entrance to the brig. “Although knowing Whirl...” He pushed that thought from his processor as he typed in the access code. He had more pressing things to think about than Whirl's distraction escalating beyond his control.

Low lights lit a path towards the brig's sole occupant. Megatron put down his datapad with a quizzical smile at Bee's approach. “I wasn't expecting visitors today.”

“I hadn't planned on visiting, but something's come up. I'm hoping you can shed some light on the problem.”

“I will do my best,” Megatron replied, serious and sincere.

Standing no more than an arm's length from the glowing bars of the cell, Bee tried not to squirm as he considered the best way to phrase his question. “During the war did any Decepticons ever act, err, weird?”

Megatron stared at him, his expression deadpan. “Constantly.”

With a momentous effort Bee resisted the temptation to roll his optics. “What I meant was: did a whole group of 'Cons ever suddenly start acting _extra_ weird? For no reason. At the same time. Specifically those with a jet alt-mode.”

Megatron covered his optics with one hand and whispered, “Dear Primus not again.”

“So this _has_ happened before?” Bee asked excitedly. “You know why all the jets are fighting and flirting with me and, more importantly, how to stop it?”

“You?” Megatron questioned as his hand returned to his side.

“Yes! It started this morning. I didn't understand what was happening at first but, yeah, they were all flirting with me. Or trying to cosy up to me at least. It was really weird.”

There was an audible pause.

“Have you encountered Starscream yet?”

Bee hesitated. “I have.”

“Did he accost you in a hallway?” The awkward silence was all the answer Megatron needed. He released a wry laugh and shook his helm. “Some things never change. Starscream always was the worst offender whenever I was the object of the jets' obsession. In so many ways.”

“Wait, this has happened to you multiple times?”

“Four times, to be precise.” Megatron settled back on the seat in his cell. “I'll spare you the details. I imagine you're more interested in how to return them to normal. I'm afraid you aren't going to like the answer.”

“Why?” Bee asked apprehensively.

“Having spent so much time with Autobots over the last few years, it seems like the sort of thing which will sit uneasily with your conscious.”

Bee's doorwings rose along with his anxiety. “What do I have to do?”

“You must choose the jet you deem superior to all others and interface with them.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

Megatron's expression turned wry again. “You thought they were flirting with you for a different reason?”

“Well...No. I guess not.” Bee scratched at the paint on his arm as he remembered all the jets who had approached him. Some of them were in committed relationships, others had never even met him, yet they all wanted to interface with him? “You're right – this doesn't sit well with my conscious. I feel like I'd be taking advantage of whoever I interfaced with. If they're under the sway of this jet-madness then they can't be fully consenting, right? Even if they say they want it they're not in their right mind so they can't make that sort of fully informed decision.” He turned pleading optics on Megatron. “Is interfacing really the only way to stop the madness?"

The former warlord looked deadly serious as he said, “Bumblebee, the first time the madness struck I tried everything to bring my Airforce to heel. Nothing worked until I interfaced with Starscream and he paraded his victory through the Air Barracks. The madness lasted nearly two deca-cycles. When the madness returned and Starscream assaulted me in a corridor I didn't resist. The jets were back to normal by the end of the cycle.” He let Bee absorb that for a klik. “If you can find a less morally dubious way to resolve the situation then I applaud you. Just know that I never could.”

After a long moment of consideration, Bee ex-vented hard. “Well, thank you for your help. I appreciate it. Even if I didn't get an answer I liked.”

Megatron arched an optic ridge. “You don't have any further questions?”

“Not right now. It's a lot to take in all at once. Maybe after I've had some time to process I'll come back but right now...”

“I understand. It's just that most others in your position would have seized upon the opportunity to quiz me on my experiences of interfacing Starscream. As I understand it the nature of our relationship was a hotly debated topic among the Autobot ranks.”

Bee felt his circuits warm at the mere memory of some of those debates. He personally had never participated, but he had been in hearing range of a few overcharged Autobots who had decided to project their most lurid and shameful interfacing desires onto the leader of the opposite faction and his second. He didn't think he'd ever be able to look Starscream in the optic again if Megatron confirmed they'd done even a quarter of the things the other Autobots had speculated about.

“I don't think that is any of my business.”

“It might be, if you're considering interfacing him.”

Bee felt his doorwings twitch at the thought, but Megatron continued on as if he hadn't noticed his embarrassment.

“Personally, I wouldn't recommend it; not if you believe Windblade to be a good leader. From what I have observed, being chosen during this jet madness confers a social status that all other jets unconsciously bow to – at least until it comes close to the cycle starting all over again. If you choose anyone other than Windblade you will undermine her authority. Some might not abuse this power but I assure you that Starscream will. On the other hand, he has been known to assassinate the one chosen over him. Do you think he likes her enough to not be too upset if she usurps his position?”

“I... _what?_ ”

Megatron's lip-plates curled in amusement. “It is a factor you should be aware of if you are unable to find an alternate solution to this problem. Do not underestimate Starscream's pettiness. Or his ability to talk you into doing things you know are unwise. Extremely satisfying, but also extremely unwise.”

“Uh-huh,” Bee said slowly, taking an awkward step backwards. “And with that bit of unsolicited advice I think it's time for me to go.”

With his wires burning hot beneath his armour Bee turned and left the brig, ignoring Megatron's amicable goodbye. He had research to do and he wasn't going to get anywhere if he let his processor wander down into the gutter.

***

By the time the night cycle rolled around Bee had scoured every medical and scientific datapad he could find on the Lost Light for reference to the jet madness. It had been a fruitless search that left Bee frustrated and weary. When he finally crawled into a berth in one of the ship's vacant hab-suites, he dropped straight into recharge. He was therefore more than a little surprised to find himself dragged out of said recharge, at what his internal chrono informed him was still the middle of the night cycle, by an unexpected weight pressing him down into the berth.

His optics came online to the sight of Starscream leering down at him. Bee screamed.

“How did you get in here!?”

Starscream shushed him, smirking. “I told you I'd find you later. And this time we shouldn't have any interruptions.”

Bee groaned. “No, Starscream, we are not doing this. I am not going to interface with you.”

“Are you certain about that?” Starscream purred as one of his talons traced a transformation seam in Bee's side.

A shiver of desire swept through Bee's protoform. He forced it deep, _deep,_ down. “Yes, I'm sure.”

Starscream hummed thoughtfully. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Bee replied, maintaining optic contact as those claws travelled to his thigh.

“You can't be convinced to change your mind?”

The talons traced the edge of his interface panel. “No, I can't.”

“Not even if I do this?”

In one swift movement, Starscream slid down Bee's frame until his lips connected solidly with his interface panel. Bee's vocaliser spit static, his hands landing without conscious thought on Starscream's shoulder vents. It was hard to tell whether the intention was to push the jet away or keep him close. Either way, it caused Starscream to grin as he laved the now burning interface panel with long licks and filthy kisses. Bee had thought how Starscream used his mouth before was obscene but this was something else.

With a momentous effort Bee regained enough composure to say, slowly and clearly, “Yes, even if you do that, I know with one hundred percent certainty, without any shadow of a doubt, that I most definitely will not interface with you.”

Starscream went rigid. With exaggerated care he removed his mouth from Bee's panel and crawled back up his frame so that he could stare him straight in the optic.

_“Why?”_

Bee hadn't realised one word could contain so much anger and jealousy and _hurt_. Then again, lots of impossible things were possible around Starscream.

“Because this isn't you. If it weren't for the jet madness you wouldn't be doing this. You're not yourself and if I interface with you like this then I would be taking advantage-”

“Primus forbid.”

Temper flaring hot like his interface panel, Bee snapped, “I'm sorry if my refusal to rape one of my friends offends you but-”

“Wait, what?”

“Which part of that did you _not_ understand? Was it the friend part?”

“Don't be rude, you know it wasn't.”

Bee ex-vented heavily. “Your processor has gone haywire. That means you can't consent and that makes it rape.”

Starscream tilted his helm curiously. “Why do you think my processor has gone haywire?”

“You wouldn't be trying to interface with me if it hadn't!”

“My, my, Little Bee. I had no idea you had such a low opinion of yourself.” Before Bee could argue, Starscream placed a finger over his lip-plates. “Hush now. I'm going to let you in on a little secret.” He leaned closer until Bee could feel the heat of his ex-vents against his audial. “I've been thinking about this for awhile. Thinking about you. I've been imagining what your valve tastes like. I've started the day by pretending the fingers between my thighs are your spike. I've wrapped my hand around my own spike and imagined it was you helping me chase my overload. I've spent a lot of lonely nights in my berth wishing you were there to keep me company.” Starscream shifted until he could again look Bee dead in the optic. “There's nothing wrong with my processor. I think you're just scared and grasping for excuses.”

Bee tried his best to keep his systems under control. He would definitely lose this argument if he started rubbing his armour against Starscream's frame like an organic animal in heat. “If all that is true, why haven't you made a move on me before now?”

Starscream's optics danced as he mentally rifled through all the answers he could possibly give. He settled on one that Bee was most definitely not expecting. “Maybe you're not the only one who's scared.”

It was Bee's turn to need a moment to compose a response. “That was...uncharacteristically honest of you.”

The jet's expression gave nothing away. “Yes, well-”

He stopped mid-sentence, distracted by the sound of the berthroom's lock code being overridden. Before either of them could react the door slid open to reveal one furious Windblade.

“Starscream,” she growled as her gaze landed on them and their position.

“Do you mind?” Starscream replied snippily. “Bumblebee and I are in the middle of a very important conversation.”

“No, I don't. Get off him. _Now_.”

“Do as she says Starscream.” Bee resisted the temptation to roll his optics at the pout aimed his way. “We can finish this conversation without you draped over me.”

Reluctantly, and with much melodramatic grumbling, Starscream sat up and moved to perch at the end of the berth. Bee activated the room's lights as he followed suit. He then turned wary optics on Windblade.

“Are you here to seduce me as well?”

A smile briefly flickered across her lip-plates. “I'm here to stop Starscream.”

Bee raised an optic ridge. “So you don't want to interface with me?”

“No.” A look of panic appeared on her faceplate. “I didn't mean it that way! I like you Bumblebee, and you're very attractive, but-”

“You're here for me,” Starscream interjected, leaning back so that his sleek frame was on display in the most distracting way possible.

“Shut up Starscream,” Windblade hissed, keeping her optics locked on Bee. “Bumblebee, I would love to interface with you. Just, not at this particular moment in time.”

“ _Really_?” Bee asked, feeling his optics widen to comical proportions. “Because if that's true you must be the only jet on New Cybertron who feels that way.”

“That might be a slight exaggeration-”

“No!” Bee interrupted, finding himself suddenly on his feet. “I just spent a whole day being as good as propositioned by every jet I met. Then I talk to Megatron and he says every time this happened to him the only way he ended the jet madness was by interfacing the jet who was 'most worthy'. I'm not in the mood to be told I'm exaggerating Windblade; I'm in the mood to hear why you're the first jet I've encountered who isn't shamelessly flirting with me.”

“Well,” Windblade replied slowly, “my guess would be that it's cultural differences at play.”

“Cultural differences,” Bee deadpaned, ignoring Starscream's inelegant snort.

Windblade shrugged her wings. “On Caminus we showed our worth by offering Solus' Second something we had created. When the Urge arose we would clear a space in the temple for our offerings, and when Solus' Second was ready they would select the most worthy from the offerings. After that there was a modest party to celebrate the Worthy being invited into the Foregfire Parliament. Absolutely no interfacing involved.” Windblade shrugged again. “I felt the Urge yesterday but I've been so busy trying to stop _someone_ from assaulting Solus' Second that I've yet to find the proper way to let the others know where to leave their offerings for you.”

“I'm Solus' Second? Second what?”

Windblade frowned. “Her Second, as in, her stand-in. Like in the legend.”

“What legend?”

The Camien turned to Starscream, who sneered, “I have no idea what you're babbling about either.”

“Right,” Windblade said with a heavy ex-vent. “Before the Golden Age, before the Thirteen Primes, Solus Prime discovered a reclusive tribe. They all had a jet alt-mode and were suspicious of outsiders. When she offered them some of the marvels she had created they welcomed her and implored her to stay. She refused, as there were many more on Cybertron she wished to help. They raised their voices in anger and so Solus Prime offered them a compromise. She swore to return every ten thousand vorn with her marvels, and to ensure she kept her promise she would leave the tribe leader with a gift. The tribe had no leader and a new argument began, but before it could get out of hand Solus Prime decreed that she would choose the most worthy among them to lead. She conducted a series of tests, the last of which was for the members of the tribe to create their own marvel. Before Solus left she gifted the tribe and their descendants with a way to know when she would return, and swore that if she could not visit them herself she would send her Second. That is why to this day everyone with a jet alt-mode still feels the Urge every ten thousand vorn, and why Solus' Second still chooses who among us is most worthy to receive Solus' gift of leadership.”

The silence that followed Windblade's tale was, naturally, broken by Starscream. “What a load of scrap.”

Optics burning, Windblade growled, “Well how do Cybertronians explain the Urge?”

“We don't. There's no need to _explain_ it. The Judge shows themselves, you seduce them, 'face them, and everyone knows you're worthy. You take out anyone who gets in your way.”

“I like Windblade's way of doing things better,” Bee declared, his gaze flickering between the two jets. “And since I'm the Judge, or Solus' Second, or whatever, what I say goes.”

“So we have to bring you a gift?” Starscream sneered, ignoring the look of smugness Windblade aimed his way.

“You have to _make_ a gift,” Windblade corrected.

“I'm happy with any type of gift,” Bee amended. Noticing the look on Starscream's faceplate (the one Bee had learned over the last few years meant the devious gears of his mind had started turning) he quickly added, “So if you've got something on you now, Windblade, that meets the criteria of 'gift' why don't you hand it over so that we can draw a line under this and let things return to normal?”

Windblade's wings twitched as if Bee had taken her by surprise. “Me?”

“You _are_ the leader of Cybertron.”

“Yes but-” She stopped, her wings flickering behind her as she mentally changed tracks. “That shouldn't affect your decision Bumblebee. Come the next election I might be voted out of office. You should make your decision on something more concrete. You should choose someone who-”

“Who was brave enough to leave their home and step out into the unknown? Who was smart enough to challenge a master manipulator and beat him at his own game? Who showed compassion to those everyone else thought undeserving? Whose honesty won her the sparks of a populace too use to being deceived by their leaders? Who stared down the Destroyer of Worlds and brought her people out the other side?” Bee stepped forward and took her hand in his, his smile one hundred percent sincere. “You're worthy of this Windblade. If I have to choose somebody to lead, who is _worthy_ to lead, I choose you. And, unlike a lot of decisions I've made over the last few years, I make this one without any lingering doubts or ethical compromises. New Cybertron couldn't ask for a better leader.”

With a sharp gasp that was echoed by Starscream, Windblade squeezed Bee's hand tight. Slowly, a smile made its way onto her faceplate. “Thank you Bumblebee. I'm honoured to be graced with your trust. I promise not to let you down.”

“I know you won't.”

With a distracting clack of armour and a dramatic flourish of his wings, Starscream rose to his feet. “Yes, yes, we get it. You're very humble and he's very proud. Now if you'll excuse me I think I'll leave before I purge.”

Bee and Windblade released each other and jumped back to avoid being knocked down by Starscream's determined strut towards the exit. They both watched him leave with expressions of mild confusion before realisation hit.

“Starscream wait!” Bee shouted as he chased after the jet.

Starscream ignored him right up until Bee manoeuvred in-front of him and he was unable to feign sudden audial failure. “Yes?” was the clipped reply.

“You were right earlier. About me being scared.” Bee scratched at the paint on his arm, not quite meeting the jet's optics. “I'm not sure when it started, when I started thinking of you as a friend. I'm even more uncertain when my feelings started being less than platonic. Sometime when I was dead and it was easy to deny because, well, I was dead. Then there was Unicron, and the end of the world, and there wasn't really time to be thinking about that sort of thing. Then the world _didn't_ end but rebuilding has been a full time job and I wasn't sure if you would be able to stay out of prison, or if you'd do something to void Windblade's pardon on day one. But this jet madness thing brought up all those feelings I've been trying not to think about and well...maybe I didn't want to think about them because I was scared. Because there was a chance the attraction was all one-sided and I didn't want to look a fool. But I like you. I'm attracted to you. And it sounds like you're attracted to me too.” Bee turned a hopeful smile on the jet. “So what do you say? Will you go on a date with me?”

A sneer twisted Starscream's features. “You actually believed all that slag?” He laughed, cruel and mocking. “I lied Bumblebee. I only said I was interested in you because you were the Judge. I wanted the power you could give me, but now that you've gone and squandered it on Windblade...” He pushed Bee aside and sauntered down the corridor. “Honestly Bumblebee, it's like you don't know me at all.”

Bee watched him go silently as he reeled from having his spark crushed under Starscream's thruster-heel. He jumped when he felt Windblade's hand on his shoulder. “He's wrong. You do know him Bee. That's why you know never to take what Starscream says at face value.”

“What do you mean?”

“That Starscream would rather be considered a selfish spawn of a glitch than leave himself vulnerable.” She rubbed his shoulder consolingly. “He's upset that he didn't win and that you said all those nice things about somebody else. He's as bad at sharing friends as he is everything else. Give him time and I'm sure he'll calm down.”

“Thanks Windblade,” Bee said, giving her a grateful smile. She dropped her hand and Bee did his best to force Starscream out of his processor. “So is it safe for me to leave the Lost Light or am I going to be mobbed by jets as soon as I clear the exit?”

Windblade laughed softly. “The Urge has gone now that you've made your choice.”

“That's good to hear.” Bee's internal chrono chose that moment to reminded him that it was still the middle of the night cycle. “If it's all the same to you Windblade I'm exhausted and I'd really like to recharge in my own berth so I'm just going to...”

“Of course. Mind if I walk you to the exit?”

“Sure; I'd love a little company.”

Together they walked side by side through the deserted corridors of the Lost Light. Bee was happy to enjoy the comfortable silence and easy companionship they'd slipped into, right up until a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Windblade. How did you know where to find me?”

“You have Prowl to thank for that,” the jet replied with a soft smile. “I was trying to talk some sense into Starscream when he came to tell me that somebody had been arrested for causing a disturbance outside of the Lost Light. He was worried it might be a precursor to a rescue attempt for Megatron and asked if I'd given you permission to visit.”

“How did _he_ know I was there?”

“We all have different access codes for the brig and your code had been used. As soon as Starscream heard your designation he slapped stasis cuffs on me and raced off. It took me awhile to break out and convince Prowl not to issue a kill order for Starscream.”

Bee groaned. “I am not looking forward to explaining this to Prowl.”

“Then don't. Just say that you were there on an intelligence gathering mission for me and you can't talk about it. I'll back you up; it's the least I can do.”

“He'll hate that.” Bee smiled. “Would you also mind going easy on Whirl? He was only trying to help me break into the Lost Light unnoticed.”

“Do you know how much damage his helpful act caused?” Bee winced, but Windblade continued, “I suppose I can convince Prowl that he was in on your mission and got a little overzealous; that will at least reduce the charges against him. Prowl will really hate it though.”

“Yeah, he will,” Bee said wistfully.

As they walked past the guards on duty and stepped out of the Lost Light, a message appeared to tell Bee he had several missed calls from Ratchet.

“Hey, does Prowl have signal-blockers running inside the Lost Light?”

Windblade gave him a _look._ Bee released a heavy ex-vent.

“Of course he does.”

Deciding that it was likely too late to return the calls, Bee sent a meeting request for the next day that Ratchet could pick up come morning. Writing said message prompted Bee to remember another appointment he'd missed.

“Oh, sorry I bailed on our meeting earlier.”

“It's alright; I know you had other matters on your processor at the time,” Windblade responded with an easy smile. “Mostly I wanted to talk to you about being Solus' Second and how we could integrate any differing traditions so that all of New Cybertron could participate in the proceedings.” She laughed softly. “I guess that's something we have a few thousand vorn to think about.”

Bee chuckled too. He stopped when he saw just how overzealous Whirl had been with his distraction. “Please tell me nobody got hurt.”

“From what I heard there were no serious injuries. It's mostly property damage.” She paused before adding dryly, “I'd still appreciate it if you found someone else to cause any future distractions.”

“Done.”

They continued walking in comfortable silence until they reached a clear stretch of road. Windblade turned towards him and pulled Bee into a hug. Pleasantly surprised and greedy for the touch of another bot, Bee hugged her back.

“Goodnight Bumblebee,” Windblade said warmly as she released him. “Pleasant recharge.”

“Thanks Windblade – you too.”

They both transformed and headed off into the night. Bee tried not to fixate on the hug and what was clearly a shift from a professional relationship to...something else.

He failed miserably.

***

Bee came out of his recharge half expecting to find an errant jet in his berth. He told himself he was _not_ disappointed to find himself alone. Which was about two thirds of the truth.

After a hasty refuelling Bee set out for the medical centre, again half expecting to be waylaid by amorous jets. He was immensely relieved when every one of the scratched and dented jets he encountered gave him no more than a passing glance. By the time he reached the wrecked remains of Wheeljack's lab he had finally accepted that the jet madness was over.

“Hey Ratchet,” he said, spotting his old friend pouring over the battered remains of some sort of medical device. “Sorry I missed your calls; I hadn't realised Prowl had installed signal-blockers in the Lost Light.”

“Bumblebee!” Ratchet cried as he rushed over to inspect him. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine. What about you and Wheeljack?”

“Fine, fine.” He paused. “Wheeljack's lab, not so much. Obviously.”

Bee found himself smiling. “What happened to Pharma and Brainstorm?”

“We convinced them to take a very long nap,” was the smug reply.

Eventually Bee passed Ratchet's (unnecessary) examination. The old medic stepped back to an acceptable distance and raised an optical ridge in a mildly condescending manner.

“I heard you managed to solve your jet problem.”

“Yeah,” Bee ex-vented. “Thankfully.”

“So who was the lucky jet?”

“Windblade.” Ratchet looked slightly alarmed and Bee continued, a little defensively, “She was there and I can't think of anyone more worthy to choose as a leader. And in the end all I had to do was hold her hand and say nice things about her, which wasn't hard at all. Kind of anticlimactic, but in a good way. Definitely not complaining about the lack of moral compromises involved in ending _this_ crisis.”

Ratchet frowned. “Wait, are you saying you _didn't_ interface with her?”

“No. I mean, yes, that is what I'm saying.”

“But the cycle is over,” Ratchet said uncomprehendingly.

Bee lifted his doorwings in a shrug. “Apparently on Caminus interfacing doesn't feature in the cycle at all. They have a very religious take on why the cycle happens and how to complete it.”

“How _do_ they complete it?”

“The jets make a gift for the chosen mech to decide worthiness.”

Ratchet hummed thoughtfully. “Here's my understanding of how the cycle works.” He walked over to one of the cleared worktops and brought up a display showing a portion of Cybertronian key code. “All those with a jet alt-mode possess an ancient line of code deep within their CNA which activates in each of them simultaneously every ten thousand vorn or so. The code selects a mech and compels them to fight for his attention. Whoever wins his favour will be placed at the top of an unconscious social hierarchy shared by every jet.

“Details of the selection process are...sketchy. The best description I could find said that the code chooses someone the majority of jets respect; someone whose judgement can't be questioned. How the cycle ends is more clearly documented. The evidence suggests the coding's imperative is to interface with the chosen mech. When a jet achieves that goal the coding returns to its dormant state. There's nothing to say _how_ all the other jets know that somebody else has been chosen, they just _know_ and return to normal.” He released a huff of dissatisfaction before continuing, “Under Functionalism the jets' behaviour was explained away as fliers being aggressive, and used to reinforce the notion they should be restricted into combat roles. There's more speculation in less reputable medical journals, but no concrete evidence regarding the whole process.

“Your experiences make me question the conclusions drawn by the medics of old. Perhaps it is the subjectivity of being 'worthy'? Different cultures have different values so although the code activates in the same way, each society responds differently. Under Functionalism and during the war it is understandable that Cybertronians would interpret a show of strength as marking them as worthy, but they would then need to submit themselves to the mercy of the chosen mech. Interfacing would be the best way to show that submission. A world more focused on creation and preservation would create a different way of satisfying the code.”

“That makes sense,” Bee agreed. “Still leaves a lot of questions unanswered though. Like why I was able to end the cycle without following the traditions of either culture? Or why the jets would have something like this written into their code in the first place? Seems kind of odd for their alt-mode to be singled out like that.”

“I'll add your keen observations to the ever-growing pile of things Wheeljack and I need to investigate,” Ratchet said sardonically. More sincerely he added, “I'm glad you managed to find another way to end the cycle Bumblebee. A better way. It's a good indicator that New Cybertron is heading in a brighter direction.”

“Thanks Ratchet,” Bee said sheepishly. Deciding it was time to change the subject, he picked up a handful of screws which had managed to find their way under the desk. “This place is a mess. Let me help you clean up.”

Ratchet nodded. “I'll show you the system we have going.”

***

A few days later everyone and everything was back to normal. Mostly. Starscream was avoiding him with a zealousness he hadn't displayed since Bee had come back to life and forced the jet to confront the fact that he hadn't spent the last few years hallucinating him. Bee would have been annoyed if he didn't appreciate the space it gave him to process all that had happened. Or didn't happen. There were plenty of bots keen to focus on what definitely did _not_ happen.

“You chose Windblade huh?” Skywarp purred, laying his arm across the top of the booth and leaning into Bee's personal space. “What was _that_ like? Did she have all the same equipment as a Cybertronian or does she have a few shiny extras to lure you in?”

“I really liked these lines of dialogue,” Bee said, bringing up a highlighted portion of text on his datapad. “They provide context without over-explaining everything. Although I still think you could come up with some better names for your side characters.”

“Don't be like that Bumblebee,” Skywarp continued, undeterred by Bee's complete and utter disinterest in the conversation. “I know for a fact Starscream made his interest in 'facing you _very_ clear. I also know just how persuasive he can be – I got a front row seat during the war to all the ways he stole Megatron's favour. All you need to tell me is what Windblade has that 'Screamer doesn't.”

“Frag off Skywarp,” Thundercracker growled from across the table. “You weren't invited, so unless you've got something to say about my script-”

“It sucks,” the jet said without once looking away from Bee. “Just like Windblade..?”

“I think you need to rewrite this section. It sounds clunky and the stage directions don't make much sense.”

“No? Is it something to do with her being a Cityspeaker? I tried asking Sparkstalker if that was why he was so quick to lock down his own Camien but all I got was a load of sentimental-”

“He didn't 'face her Skywarp,” Thundercracker interrupted. “The colonies have their own way of getting the Judge to choose them and it has nothing to do with interfacing.”

Skywarp stared dumbfounded at his friend. “You're kidding me.”

“It's true,” Bee mumbled without looking up. “I held her hand and told her she'd proven herself worthy over the last few years. Since then we've done nothing more intimate than hug.” He ex-vented heavily. “At this rate I'm tempted to make a press release stating as much so nosy jets stop asking me about it.”

Thundercracker looked away, sufficiently chastised over his earlier (much less probing) questions. Skywarp, unfortunately, was more frustrated than repentant. “Then why is 'Screamer convinced you two are doing it every night cycle?”

“Because he's paranoid and a sore loser? Your character's reaction is unrealistic outside of a sitcom; you're hinging too much story on someone overreacting to a misunderstanding.”

The purple jet fell silent as he watched Bee continue to critique Thundercracker's script.

“You're serious. All you've done is _hug_?”

“That's right.”

“That is the most disappointing news I've received since I heard this idiot survived Unicron.”

“Frag off Skywarp!”

“Fine,” the jet grumbled as he slid out of the booth and out of Blurr's New Oil House.

“Sorry about him,” mumbled Thundercracker.

Bee flicked his doorwings without looking up from the datapad. “It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. From the sound of it this is what's always happened. It's understandable assumptions would be made-”

“That doesn't make it right.”

Bee paused at the seriousness of Thundercracker's tone.

“You're not Megatron and you're not whoever was the Judge during the reign of the Functionalists. You're better than all of them combined. I think that's why you were chosen. Because believe it or not people like and respect you. Including Decepticons. Even after everything you've done. After the war it took all of us time to adjust and learn how to trust again. You kept us from killing each other during that period. You likely kept Starscream from killing us all during his reign too. You turned Megatron into an Autobot – Decepticons might hate that but they respect you for it. Plus all the stuff you're doing now. We see you working hard and we appreciate it even if we'd rather grumble about things not moving fast enough. You have a good spark and it's wrong everyone assumes you took advantage of Windblade when you didn't. When you found a better way to end the fighting. You deserve better.” He looked away as he added, “Plus you turned down Starscream. Big red flag there that you're able to use critical thinking in the face of emotional manipulation and pretty wings being metaphorically shoved in your faceplate.”

Bee felt cleanser gathering in his optics. “Thank you for saying all that. I didn't know.”

“Don't mention it,” he replied gruffly, the sound of cooling fans barely audible over the noise of the conversations surrounding them. “What did you think about the ending? Is it as bad as I think it is? I hate endings.”

Bee smiled and returned his processor to Thundercracker's script.

***

After everything he'd been through over the last few days, when the door opened to reveal a jet posed provocatively on his berth Bee wasn't the least bit shocked.

“Starscream,” he said wearily.

The jet's smug grin faltered for an astrosecond. Clearly not the reaction he'd expected. “Hello Little Bee. I was hoping to find you here.”

“Seeing as I live here it didn't take a genius to figure out that you would.”

Bee repressed the grin that wanted to break free as Starscream made an effort to maintain his composure. “I wanted to let you know that I have taken time out of my busy schedule to consider your offer." He sat up straight, announcing regally, "And I am willing to take you up on that date.”

“ Sorry, that offer has expired.”

“...What?”

“I said that offer has expired. You had your chance and you missed it.” Bee allowed a moment for that to sink in, but before Starscream could storm off in a fit of righteous fury he continued, “However, I would be willing to put that deal back on the table if you do one thing for me.”

He moved over to the berth and straddled Starscream. The jet looked excited as he leaned in for a kiss. “Oh?”

At the last second Bee pressed his lip-plates against Starscream's audial and whispered, “You have to tell me honestly if you were more envious of me or Windblade when you thought we were interfacing every night cycle.”

Starscream froze. Then shoved him to the floor. “How dare you, you fragging spawn of a glitch!”

“You aren't going to get your way by shouting.” Starscream stood up and Bee called, “Or by storming out!”

Starscream stopped at the door, his wings trembling with suppressed fury. Glad he had the jet's attention, Bee sat up and swivelled round to face Starscream's back.

“How did you think this was going to go? You'd flutter your wings and I'd fall into berth with you? Haven't I proved I have better self-control than that?”

“Last time you had your precious morals to save you,” Starscream replied without facing him. “Now that my processor is no longer 'compromised' you have no convenient excuse to deny yourself.”

“It wasn't an excuse. And you were the one who walked away!”

“Because you chose Windblade!” he shouted as he spun to face Bee.

“To lead! That's all I chose her to do!”

“I don't believe you.”

“Then walk away. Again! It won't change the truth.”

Starscream made a sound that was half pain half rage as he punched a hole through Bee's paper thin wall. “Why didn't you choose me?” he demanded, his expression a little too vulnerable as he took a step towards Bee's still seated position.

“You had your chance to lead Starscream,” Bee replied levelly. “And I'll admit that, considering what you had to work with, you did a good job of keeping the peace. You even made some good decisions for the right reasons instead of being forced into them by bots like Windblade. However, you also made a lot of poor decisions; chief among them was the decision to try and rule a place like Cybertron on your own. I was _there_ Starscream – I saw how you suffered under the pressure. You couldn't recharge, barely refuelled, and seemed perfectly accepting of the fact that you were _hallucinating a dead Autobot_. At no point did you think to ask anyone, even a medic, for help!”

Bee could feel himself getting steadily more angry just thinking about how stupid Starscream could be. He stood up and Starscream took an unconscious step back. That, at least, reminded Bee that this was not about berating Starscream. It was about trying to convince him there were healthier ways to get what he wanted.

“When you were in prison you were happier than the majority of the time you were in office. You were so thankful to no longer have all the hopes and dreams of Cybertron on your wings, to no longer be living under the constant threat of exposure. But then you fought so hard to become a leader, and I don't understand why. Did you think it would be different this time? That you wouldn't fall into the same trap of trying to do everything on your own? Of clinging so tightly to your power that you end up hurting yourself and those around you? Or did you just fall back into old behaviours because they're familiar and you're terrified of trying something different? Are you worried that if you open up and show your real self you'll be rejected and that will hurt so much more than being the monster you pretend to be? Do you believe being alone is better than taking a chance on love?

“I chose Windblade because she won't make your mistakes. She won't make decisions based solely on keeping her power, and she won't hurt herself trying to do everything alone. I never chose her for romantic reasons. I did, however, ask you on a date for romantic reasons. And you turned me down. More than that, I made myself vulnerable and you purposefully hurt me. I know it was because you thought I had already rejected you - because for some reason power and affection are intertwined in your processor. That wasn't what happened, by the way, and I'm willing to forgive you the misunderstanding. I'm willing to try again. If you want to.”

Bee stepped forward slowly and took hold of Starscream's hands. Starscream stared at him, silent and bemused and maybe just a little bit terrified. Bee smiled.

“We have very different life experiences so we probably will want to go about this in different ways. That means we're going to have to communicate and find a compromise that works for both of us. You're gorgeous and an amazing kisser, but I want a relationship that goes beyond what you can do in the berth. I want to have a partner who will support me. Who will let me support them. Who won't lash out when I offer them comfort. Who will let me tell them how brilliant they are without instantly suspecting me of manipulating them. Who wants to see New Cybertron flourish as much as I do and is willing to pitch in to help achieve that dream.”

“Is that all?” Starscream asked weakly.

Bee laughed. “Oh no, there's far more that I want. But those things are easy; I'm listing the hard things, the things we're going to have to work at.” He squeezed the hands still in his grasp. “I'm not expecting this to be a drive in the park Starscream. It'll be an adjustment for both of us. We're both going to have to commit to keeping a relationship alive. I think we can do it though. Do you?”

For a long moment Starscream was silent. He was probably trying to work out Bee's angle, trying to figure out what Bee could gain from dating him. Trying to work out if this was a trick. It was sad to think that way, but Bee hadn't expected anything less. Old habits die hard but that didn't mean it wasn't worth trying to break them. They both had to be willing to try though.

Eventually coming to a decision, Starscream forced a smile. “Will we have to talk about our feelings all the time?”

“Not all the time,” Bee replied, gratefully mirroring his smile. “In fact, I'm kind of hoping you'll kiss me so that we don't have to do any more talking tonight.”

Starscream's grin became far more confident at that, and he moved down to capture Bee's lip-plates. Bee was happy to report that any desire he felt for further conversation fell instantly by the wayside.

It was a pity Starscream didn't get the memo.

Pulling back, the jet looked incredibly smug as he said, “I bet Windblade doesn't kiss like that.”

Bee huffed, exasperated. “Is _that_ what you were thinking about during _our_ kiss? If it was then I'm not sure I'm the one you should be trying to start a relationship with.”

“Don't be so sensitive, it's not like that,” Starscream said dismissively as he ran a distracting hand across Bee's doorwing and down his backstrut.

“You sure? Because if it _was_ like that I'm not certain it would be one-sided. Don't you find it kind of suspect that she was so focused on you during this whole jet madness? A whole planet of Cybertronian jets who thought they needed to interface with me to get to the top and you were the only one she took time to try and talk out of it.”

Starscream paused with his hand curled possessively around Bee's hip and mouth pressed against his neck cables. A wicked grin spread across Bee's faceplate.

“Want me to call Windblade and ask her opinion on the matter? We've become great friends lately, maybe I could set the two of you up? Or I could invite her to join us. Bet she'd look _amazing_ pinning you to the berth.”

Suddenly, Starscream was kissing him again, far more aggressively this time. It was easy to get lost in the pure lust and let Starscream move them to the berth. That didn't mean Bee wasn't going to get one more jab in there the klik Starscream gave him an opening.

“That wasn't a 'no'.”

With a growl Starscream dived back in and put all thoughts of Windblade out of Bee's processor for the rest of the night cycle.


End file.
